


Whiskey Burns

by atetheredmind



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 21:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13889310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atetheredmind/pseuds/atetheredmind
Summary: Dany is a desperate woman. She'll do anything to save her family's business, even if that means suffering through these insipid black-tie affairs and Drogo's unwanted advances. At least, the bartender is cute. Modern AU.





	Whiskey Burns

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jonerys Week 2018, Day 3. Fair warning, I wrote this kind of quickly, and I know next to nothing about investment firms or really anything about what these fictional companies do. I just know smut.

“Don’t fuck this up for us,” Viserys hissed in her ear, his words as biting as his fingers digging into her arm.

Dany fought the urge to shake her brother off, instead plastering a polite smile on her face to greet Drogo Khal as he stalked toward them. Her brother had twisted her arm into attending this pretentious charity function where all of the city’s elite were gathered to rub elbows and flaunt their wealth while pretending to care about the poor and downtrodden.

Once upon a time, they would have been home here among the elite. Viserys still clung desperately to the belief that they did. Dany wasn’t so naive anymore, but if she could do something to save her family’s company, she would do it.

She just hadn’t expected that to mean whoring herself out.

Only when Drogo stopped before them did Viserys ease his grip on her arm, as if he’d been worried she was going to make a break for it. She couldn’t say the thought hadn’t entered her mind. Dany tried not to let her false smile slip, but it was difficult. Drogo was big and imposing, and his grin promised unpleasant things for her.

The CEO of Khal Industries was a formidable man, having rightfully earned his reputation as a vicious, take-no-prisoners businessman. His investment company was leading the field in robotics and artificial intelligence and had made every Top 100 list the past few years due to its smart investments in innovative products and companies, and unparalleled profit margins. Every struggling startup and company on its last legs came to Drogo Khal with their hands out.

Which was exactly what she and Viserys were doing now. Their family business, an organization once renown for its technological advancements in medical research, was failing. Dany and Viserys’ father had squandered everything: the money, the research, the talented, hardworking employees. Everything would have been lost if it hadn’t been for Dany’s idea to change their focus to developing new technology and prostheses for child amputees.

And yet, despite years of Dany’s hard, tireless work to get their company back in the black and restore their family name within the community, Visery had quickly dwindled all that goodwill and all the money they’d recouped, thanks to a crippling gambling addiction—and probably a few other vices Dany only suspected. Now, if they didn’t find an investor with deep pockets, Dracarys Inc. would be forced to declare bankruptcy.

She and Viserys had been turned away by the front-desk staff at Khal Industries numerous times before they finally secured a meeting with Drogo himself. During that meeting, unfortunately, he’d taken a particular interest in Dany. He’d even interrupted her presentation to proposition her. Embarrassed, she’d declined as politely as she could.

But Drogo wasn’t the kind of man to take no for an answer. And neither was Viserys.

“Daenerys Targaryen,” Drogo greeted her, his deep voice practically rattling through her chest. “I was hoping I’d see you again.” Disinterestedly, he glanced at her brother and gave a curt nod. “Viserys.”

“Good to see you again, Drogo,” Viserys immediately jumped in, his smile oily. “We thought tonight was such a wonderful opportunity. As you know, our company, Dracarys Inc., specializes in developing new technology to help children—”

“Right,” Drogo said with a wave of his hand, which he then slapped down on Viserys’ shoulder in a tight squeeze. His smile was equally as smarmy. “Take a night off, Viserys. Enjoy the hors d'oeuvres and the alcohol. Daenerys can tell me all about it later this week when we have dinner. Isn’t that right, beautiful?”

Her smile felt more like a grimace. “Of course. I’ll be happy to talk business with you then,” she said, hoping he’d pick up on her pointed emphasis. Drogo grinned, removing his hand from Viserys to skim his fingers down her bare arm.

“Not too much business, I hope.”

“I guess that depends on how quickly each course goes,” she said weakly, trying not to flinch at his touch. Desperate for a way out, Dany glanced down at her empty drink. The ice was melting, watering down what was left of her whiskey. “Forgive me, Drogo. Viserys. I think I need a top-off.”

“I like a girl who can drink,” Drogo said approvingly. She forced another smile, catching Viserys’ eye as she made to leave. He shot her a glare, which morphed into a grotesque smile when he turned to Drogo, eager to have the man all to himself for a moment.

Gratefully, Dany hurried to the bar as fast as her five-inch stilettos would allow. At least her dress wasn’t much of a hindrance to walking; the long skirt grazed the floor, but the high split in the front kept it from tangling around her legs or tripping her. The black dress, an old one she’d found deep in her closet, was strapless and plunging both in the front and the back, but the bodice had so much boning in it, Dany didn’t have to worry about a boob popping out. Which was a good thing since she was braless.

At the bar, she slid onto a stool and waited to get a bartender’s attention. Other servers circulated the room with trays of champagne and wine, but Dany was keen to get off her feet for a moment—and away from Viserys and Drogo.

After he finished with another guest, the bartender nearest her turned his attentions her way. She’d just finished off the watery remnants of her drink when he reached her. “What can I get you?” he asked.

Licking her lips, Dany set her empty glass and her clutch purse on the bar. “A loaded gun, preferably,” she muttered, mostly to herself, but he frowned.

“I don’t know it. What’s in that?”

Her eyes widened at him. “Oh—I didn’t mean—it’s not a drink.”

His face broke into a crooked smile. “I know. I’m messing with you.” He braced his hands on the bar. “But since I’m not authorized to sell firearms, what can I get you to drink?”

Her smile widened despite her sour mood. In that moment, she took a closer look at the man on the other side of the bar. It’d been another bartender who’d served her earlier, a stocky, bald-headed man who appeared middle-age and was nowhere near as attractive. This man seemed close in age to her and was of average height, but he looked trim and muscular under his well-fitting, white button-down and black tie, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair was pulled back in a bun, he had more than a few days’ worth of scruff on his face, and his dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he watched her expectantly.

She didn’t think she had a thing for man buns or beards—Drogo’s fastidiously groomed goatee certainly did nothing for her—but this bartender was definitely doing something for her.

Blushing lightly, she shifted on her stool to cross her legs and quell the faint pulse of desire between her thighs. She had to shake her head to gather her scattered thoughts, then she gave him another smile. “A whiskey on the rocks. Jameson, please.”

He let out a low whistle. “You sure about that?”

Dany arched an eyebrow, though her stomach swooped with disappointment. “Oh, please tell me you’re not one of those guys who thinks a girl can’t handle whiskey.”

He lifted his eyebrows and pushed off the bar. “No. I just saw your heels when you were walking up.”

She laughed, swiftly relieved he hadn’t confirmed her worst suspicions of him. “Well, you might be surprised what women have managed to accomplish in higher heels, sir.”

He shook his head. “Jon. Not sir.” Grabbing her empty glass, the bartender switched it out for a clean highball glass and plunked a few ice cubes in it. “And I don’t know if I’d be surprised so much as terrified,” he said with another smile, pouring two fingers of whiskey into the glass. As he handed the glass to her, she took it, her fingers incidentally grazing his. The pulse between her thighs returned.

Lifting the glass to her mouth, she gave him a small, coy smile. “Mm. You probably  _should_ be terrified, Jon.” He chuckled as she sipped the whiskey, relishing the path of fire down her throat to her belly. His laugh was just as savory to her ears, a similar husky quality in the low-cadence of his voice. Licking the droplets of whiskey from her lips, Dany set the highball glass down and reached her hand out to him in introduction. “My name’s Dany.”

But Jon eyed her hand like she’d slapped a dead fish on the bar. “I’m not supposed to touch the guests,” he said, looking back up at her face. Her cheeks burned hot, and she jerked her hand back.

“Oh. I didn’t—I guess I can see the potential problems there,” she demurred, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She’d left her long, platinum hair down in soft waves for the evening as she’d never been very adept at styling it in anything other than a braid or a messy bun. Plus, there was the minor problem of her electricity having been cut off earlier in the evening due to too many late payments, but that was neither here nor there. At the moment, she wanted to pull her hair in front of her face to hide. Instead, she took a healthy swig of her whiskey. Alcohol was a better remedy for her mortification.

He flashed her an apologetic smile. “Most people don’t really deign to touch the help at these kinds of things, anyway.” Grabbing a dishtowel, Jon wiped up a spilled puddle of liquor, but he lingered at her end of the bar.

She’d been so long out of the scene, she’d forgotten the rules. Even so, it was a stupid rule. Dany had learned early on how easily everything could slip through her fingers; she didn’t consider herself above anyone.

“Well...they might change their minds if they knew how clever the people making their drinks were,” she said, finally finding her nerve to continue the conversation.

He laughed, that deep, rumbling sound making her think of a thunderstorm on a hot summer day for some reason. “Don’t give away the secret. I’m only meant to be wallpaper here.”

She smiled. “If that’s the case, they probably should’ve hired someone less attractive,” she said, the bold words slipping out before she could think better of it. Still, she managed not to cringe at her blatant come-on and took a casual sip of her whiskey, not shying away from his gaze.

He was surprised—pleasantly so, it seemed, judging by the smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Wow. Now, see, if  _I’d_  said that to  _you_ , that would have been embarrassingly cheesy. Probably even creepy.”

Dany winced into her drink. “It was bad, wasn’t it?”

Jon shook his head. “It would have been. Luckily, you’re a knockout, so it worked.” She blushed, even as his words sent a rush of warmth through her chest and down into her belly like the whiskey had. He braced his hands on the bar again and leaned closer, dropping his voice for her ears only. His dark eyes flashed with amusement. “You might want to be careful, though. I’m not sure your date would be happy to overhear you flirting with the bartender.”

She blinked before her brow knotted in confusion. “I don’t have a date—” Jon’s eyes flicked over her shoulder, and she followed his gaze. Her stomach dropped when she saw Drogo heading toward her. When she turned back to Jon, he simply smiled and pushed off the bar.

“Enjoy your night, Dany. And take it easy in those heels.” With that, he walked away to help another guest.

* * *

For the hundredth time, Dany checked the time on her phone. 11:53 p.m. With a sigh, she stuffed her phone back into her clutch and peered out the tinted back window of the town car. The gala had ended at 11 p.m., and the last of the guests had long trickled out of the building. Every now and then a few servers poured out in groups before peeling off and going their separate ways. But still no sight of Jon.

She dropped her head back on the seat, bouncing her knee nervously. This was ridiculous, she knew, waiting for him like she was. If she were a man, this would  _definitely_ be creepy.

She’d faked a stomachache a couple hours ago just to escape the event early. She couldn’t endure another moment of Viserys’ company and Drogo’s constant attention. Even then, Drogo wouldn’t let her leave without her assurance she would be at dinner Wednesday night. Just the two of them.

And she would be, for the sake of her company and the children who depended on her.

But tonight she planned to give to Jon. If he wanted her, that is, which she felt confident he did. Mostly confident.

And if he ever came out of the damn building.

“Miss?”

Her driver, Selmy, called to her from the front, his eyes on her in the rear-view mirror. For the past couple hours, he’d sat patiently at the wheel, quiet as she watched her phone and fretted. As her personal driver for the past 15 years, he was as loyal as they came, even as she struggled to pay him week to week for his service. He refused to leave her side, however, not even when she suggested he should find work elsewhere. Selmy was steadfast and kind, and he hadn’t questioned her when she’d called him earlier in the night to pick her up only to make him park outside the building and wait.

But it seemed even his patience had worn thin tonight. “Just a moment longer, I promise,” she pleaded, telling herself she’d give it five more minutes. If he didn’t show in the next five minutes, then she’d know it wasn’t meant to happen.

Squinting out the window, Dany watched the glass doors and worried her lip between her teeth. Her phone buzzed with a text alert in her clutch—Viserys, no doubt, yelling at her some more for leaving early. She’d seen him exit the building half an hour ago, his face stormy as he got in his own chauffeured car and left, probably to visit one of his favored strip clubs. Thankfully, he hadn’t noticed her town car, though she’d ducked down low in the seat just to be on the safe side.

She was about to reach into her purse to completely silence her phone when the glass door swung open. Jon emerged, stripped down to a plain white tee. His button-down was thrown over his shoulder, his tie sticking out of a pocket on his black, slim-fitting slacks. His hair was free of its bun now, releasing an unruly halo of dark curls. Her heart soared as he took a few steps from the building, alone, then loitered near the curb. Pulling a cigarette from behind his ear, he stuck it between his lips and lit it, the cherry glowing orange as he took a deep drag.

Exhaling a languorous cloud of smoke, he took out his phone. Dany clutched at the door handle. “Selmy, can you pull up a little?” she asked.

Dutifully, Selmy started the car and inched forward. Her intentions must have been obvious because he stopped directly in front of Jon, who still had his nose buried in his phone as he absently smoked his cigarette. Her heart rate quickening, Dany rolled down her window and wet her lips before she called out to him.

“Need a ride?”

Startled, Jon glanced up from his phone, his dark eyes finding hers. She smiled shyly. He didn’t immediately react at the sight of her, his expression blank. Her heart started to sink into her stomach when recognition followed a split second later, lighting up his eyes. Stuffing his phone in his pocket, he took a drag from his cigarette and blew it out.

“Not sure. You ever find that loaded gun you were looking for?” he asked, stepping closer.

Her smile widened before she stopped it, forcing it into a neutral line. “Sadly, no. Selmy has a strict no-guns policy in his car.”

Jon glanced toward the front, squinting at the dark windows, then back at her. “I was just going to call an Uber.”

Dany lifted a shoulder. “You could. Or you could let me give you a ride.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully. “And where would you take me?”

Instinctively, she licked her lips. “Your place, of course. Or…” She dropped her voice. “Mine, if you’d prefer.”

He studied her, considering her proposition. After a moment, he brought his cigarette to his mouth, sucked in a drag and blew it out. When he turned away, her stomach lurched, sure it was meant as a rejection, but he only crossed a few feet to his right to stub out his cigarette on a trashcan and toss it. Then he circled around the car. The backseat door opposite her opened, and Jon slid inside, his knees jammed up against the back of Selmy’s seat.

“Your place is fine,” he told her. Selmy didn’t wait for her command; he pulled away from the curb and headed in the direction of her penthouse.

* * *

As Dany led Jon into her penthouse, she remembered too late the electricity had been cut off.  _Fuck_. Why hadn’t she insisted on his place?

Luckily, the penthouse had large open windows, letting in the luminous lights of the city. With an embarrassed smile, she turned to Jon and hoped he hadn’t noticed her stupidly flipping the light switch on and off after she’d walked in.

He seemed more interested in the layout of the penthouse than the lighting, at least. Draping his button-down on a bar stool, he walked around, examining her decor and the unfettered view from the glass doors, which slid open onto a moderately sized patio. His back to her, he didn’t say anything as he took in the view, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Nervously, Dany smoothed her hair behind her ear and set her purse down on the coffee table. “Can I get you something to drink?” she offered, thinking she must have some cheap beer in the fridge, at least. If it hadn’t gotten too warm by now.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, then he looked at her over his shoulder. His smile was droll. “I’m already a sure bet.”

Her face flushed. His meaning was clear, but she couldn’t suss out his tone. It sounded like a joke, but there was a certain bite to his words that gave her pause. It took her a moment to reply. “I’m not expecting anything,” she said awkwardly.

At that, he turned to face her, head cocked to the side. “You’re not? So you brought me to your place just to...make me a drink? Return the favor? You know you already tipped me for the whiskey, right?”

She was momentarily stunned into silence before she folded her arms over her breasts, her embarrassment giving way to anger, stoked by his unexpected mockery. “Well, now I’m rethinking the whole thing,” she retorted.

He let out a low chuckle. “I don’t mean to offend you. I just know what girls like you want.”

She frowned. “Girls like me?”

He shrugged. “Rich girls. It’s always the same thing.” She wasn’t imagining it; the bite had returned to his voice, his words dripping with disdain and bitterness. “You’re bored by high society, you want a little danger. You see some lowlife, working odd jobs to make ends meet, and you see an opportunity for a little danger and excitement. A chance to experience life from the other side. Slum it up a little. You think fucking the bartender will give you that thrill you’re so desperate for, but by morning you’ll remember how safe and comfortable you feel surrounded by all your money. Still, it’ll be a fun story you can tell your girlfriends later, at least.”

Her whole body had flushed hot by the end of his insulting tirade, her hands trembling. She uncrossed her arms and dropped them to her sides, hands curling into fists to stop the shaking. “Wow. That’s a whole lot of assumptions.”

“Oh? Am I wrong?” he asked. “You didn’t bring me here to fuck me?”

Her face went red, and she snapped. “I did, but suddenly I’m as dry as the Sahara desert, so I think I’m gonna pass.”

He burst out laughing, seemingly genuinely amused by her words. “That’s too bad. I do find you very attractive.” Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he stepped away from the balcony and sauntered past her to grab his shirt from the bar stool. “I can show myself out. I’ll get an Uber this time.”

“You do that,” she spat at his back, before she was suddenly seized with indignation. She scurried after him, miraculously managing to not trip in her heels. “You know what? No, you don’t get to just  _leave_ , not after insulting me like that!”

Jon opened the front door, and Dany slapped her hand against it to slam it shut. He turned a surprised look on her. Taking a deep breath, Dany launched into her defense.

“You don’t know me. How  _dare_ you judge me like that! I’m not just some rich girl. And even if I was,  _so what_? That still wouldn’t give you the right to sneer at me like you just did. What if I was doing something good with all my money? What if I had a worthwhile reason to be at that stupid gala tonight?”

Jon was quiet, and she charged ahead. “Not that I care what you think about me, but I’m more acquainted with living hand to mouth than you think. I know what it means to struggle.” To demonstrate, she flicked the light switch on and off a few times to no effect. “Yes, my family had money. It’s gone now. For the longest time, I barely had anything. Everything I have now, I worked hard for. I rebuilt my family’s business from the ground up  _by myself_. To help kids! Children I’ve come to know personally and care deeply about! It took every last penny I had to my name, but I did it because helping those kids _matters_  to me. Seeing those kids’ smiles everyday is worth it. Unfortunately, my selfish, asshole brother ruined everything.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she jutted her chin out defiantly. “So,  _yes_. I go to those pretentious events and bat my eyelashes and simper prettily to anyone willing to help. If I have to whore myself out for those kids, you fucking bet I will. And if I thought to have a little fun for myself by picking up a cute guy in the meantime, so what? Judge me all you want, but you should at least have all the facts first.”

She was breathing hard by the end of her rant, silencing following. Jon stared at her, not reacting, and she slowly felt her outrage deflate. She probably should have been embarrassed by her reaction, for letting him get under her skin so easily, but he finally spoke.

“What’s the name of your company?”

Dany blinked. “Dracarys.”

“And what do you do, exactly?”

Flustered by the sudden pivot in the conversation, she stammered, “We—we make artificial limbs for kids. We partner with hospitals to provide the technology and teach them how to use their new limbs while assisting in their physical rehabilitation.”

Jon nodded thoughtfully. “That sounds like amazing work.”

She stared at him. “Thank you.”

Scratching at his beard, Jon looked around and let out a breath. “How ‘bout I get those drinks you offered while you change into something else so we can talk? I’m sure those heels aren’t the most comfortable things to stand around in.”

He was already moving toward her kitchen, dropping his shirt on the same bar stool as before. She gaped at his back. “You—okay,” she said, too stunned to process what was happening. Not sure what else to do, Dany turned in her heels and headed for her bedroom.

* * *

When she emerged, dressed down in sweatpants and a t-shirt, she found that Jon had made himself at home on her couch, two opened beer bottles on the coffee table. He smiled when he saw her. “Cute.” At her confusion, he gestured to her head. “Don’t get me wrong, I liked your hair down, but the messy bun is pretty adorable.”

Self-consciously, she touched her hair, then scowled at him. “I hope you don’t think I’m still going to sleep with you.”

He laughed and held up his hands. “No. I’m sure that ship has sailed. I’m interested in hearing more about your work, though. You sound very passionate about it.” Leaning forward, he grabbed his beer and took a sip. “All I found was beer. Hope that’s fine.”

“Yeah,” she answered automatically, then shook her head at herself. “Of course it is. It’s my beer.” With a huff, Dany squared her shoulders and stalked over to the couch to plop down beside him. Snatching up her beer, she chugged a few gulps and smacked her lips in satisfaction. The past 15 minutes had been weird. The whole night had been, really.

His arm braced on the back of the couch, Jon casually sipped his beer, twisting his body to face her. After he swallowed, he licked his lips and fixed her with a serious look. “I’m sorry about before. I misjudged you.”

She settled into the corner of the couch, giving him a gimlet-eyed glare. “I’d say the problem was more about you being an asshole than you simply misjudging me.”

With a faint smile, he dipped his chin in agreement. “That’s fair. And after you’d offered me a ride home and everything.”

“Well…” She conceded. “I did have ulterior motives at the time, so don’t recommend me for sainthood just yet.”

He chuckled. In the ambient light of her apartment, she could see the amusement in his eyes. When he smiled, it really did transform his face. “Tell me more about your company, then I’ll decide whether to canonize you or not.”

Dany rolled her eyes, but she told him what he wanted to know. Gradually, she told him everything, about her family’s company that had grown and evolved over the decades, until her father took over from their grandfather and drove it into the ground. Then she told him about taking over at the helm and completely changing their mission, rebuilding everything they’d nearly lost, only for Viserys to blow everything once again. She even told him about Drogo, how she hoped to persuade him to invest in Dracarys, how she had a dinner date with him next week. Since she and Jon were no longer going to have sex, she didn’t see the need to play coy.

Jon nodded as he listened, politely interrupting to ask questions now and then as she unloaded her entire sad-sack story on him. She even told him about Selmy. At some point, she got up to fetch them two more beers.

He was just so surprisingly easy to talk to. Which shouldn’t have been that surprising—she’d felt that at the gala, however briefly. Some ineffable quality about him that drew her to him, that had made her want to open herself up and invite him in. Figuratively—and literally.

Soon, the conversation drifted to other topics, some more casual and less fraught with tragedy, some more personal. He always seemed to turn the conversation back to her, however, even when she asked him direct questions. Still, she learned his full name was Jon Snow, he was 27, a few months older than her, and he tended bar some nights while he worked as a dog walker during the day.

“You’re a dog person?” she asked, secretly thrilled.

“I love dogs. I have a Samoyed myself.”

“A what?”

His mouth split into a grin, and he shifted closer on the couch while he pulled his phone out of his pocket. She waited for him to bring up a photo of a big, white, fluffy dog. “His name is Ghost.”

She wanted to die. “He is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Jon snorted and put his phone away. “He knows it, too.” He drained the last of his beer and stood, and she stood with him. “You got recycling?”

“Under the sink.” As he walked to the kitchen, Dany’s eyes followed him. He was about to leave, she realized. Her heart sank.

She didn’t want him to go. Despite her earlier proclamation and their brief argument, she was still attracted to him. Even more so now, truthfully.

When he grabbed his shirt after tossing his bottle, Dany made a bold decision. “If you need to go, I can ask Selmy to drive you.”

Jon came to a halt, his eyes studying her in the dark. Finally, he said, “It’s pretty late. I’d hate to bother him.”

She nodded, folding her lips together. “Yes. I’d hate to bother him, too.” 

His eyes remained on her. “Dany. Say what you mean,” he said softly.

She let out a breath. “I...want you to stay. If you want to, I mean.”

He took a few steps closer. “Tell me exactly what it is you want from me,” he murmured.

Her pulse fluttered in her throat, and she wet her lips. “I want you.” He waited patiently, arms crossed, determined to drag it out of her, apparently. Frustrated, she huffed. “I want to have sex with you. Okay?”

Jon smiled and unfolded his arms. “Yeah. That’s quite okay with me.” With that, he tossed his button-down aside and strode the last of the distance to her. Surprised, Dany froze as he cupped her jaw and pulled her close, tugging on her chin to open her mouth. As his lips slanted against hers, she relaxed into him. She met his tongue with eager strokes of her own, grabbing at his waist to lean into him. He was all hard muscles beneath her hands. She wanted to explore him, rub her hands up and down his chest, under his shirt and over his abdomen. And lower, much lower.

But Jon had other plans, sliding his hands around her neck, his thumbs sweeping along her jawline as he kissed her. His tongue tasted of the watered-down beer he’d been drinking, and underneath there was the tang of his saliva. His lips were soft and probing, while his coarse beard chafed her upper lip. Dany moaned as his tongue brushed against hers, and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her breasts to his chest.

He continued to hold her face, his breaths warm on her lips and turning ragged with the growing intensity of their kiss. Dany wanted to rub her overly sensitized breasts and hardening nipples against him, wanted to relieve the growing pressure between her legs, but he seemed content with the kiss, tasting her, teasing her. Getting her as wet as possible.

Dragging his hands down her neck, Jon rested them on her shoulders. He finally pulled his mouth back, licking his lips, but then he kissed her ear, her jaw, the tender flesh just underneath, till he was sucking lightly on her throat. His teeth and his beard scraped over her skin till her knees felt shaky. She had to squeeze her thighs together, feeling how slick she was, how uncomfortably wet her panties had become.

“Jon,” she croaked out, breathing hard, fingers digging into the firm muscles of his back. He hummed in question, still licking at the delicate skin of her neck. She was sweating now; no doubt he could taste it. “I need…”  _To come? Need you to fuck with me your fingers and then your cock until I can’t walk?_ Everything running through her brain was too vulgar and crude to voice out loud. All she managed instead was, “Can we move to the bedroom?”

Lifting his head, he met her eyes, his gaze heavily lidded and dark. His tongue swept over his bottom lip. “Yeah. Let’s go there.”

He released her. Bereft, she let go of him, too. He watched her, waiting for her to lead the way. Her thoughts addled, Dany turned in the direction of her bedroom and led him that way. Unfortunately, it was darker in her room, the blinds down but cracked slightly. Darker still when Jon shut the door behind him once they were inside. Turning to him, she twisted her hands together, her nerves alight with excitement and adrenaline and apprehension, too. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex. And with a virtual stranger, at that.

“Take your hair down,” he told her, his voice low. Obediently, she reached up to pull out the hair tie, struggling to release the messy bun without ripping out any of her hair. As her hair tumbled over her shoulders, he moved closer, surprising her with another, more forceful kiss. This time he wound his hands in her hair and tipped her head back, parting her lips wider under his as he thrust his tongue between them. At the sound of his groan, she thrilled.

“Your hair is so pretty down,” he murmured against her mouth. He bit at her lips, pulling her bottom lip briefly between his teeth before releasing. He nuzzled the side of her head, rubbing his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. “God. You’re so fucking pretty.”

Dany laughed, pushing his shirt up to touch his stomach, then his back. His skin was hot to the touch, the muscles hard and tensed. “You’re pretty too,” she whispered.

He made an amused sound of protest and brought his face back to hers. “You can’t call me pretty. That’s weird,” he said then kissed her again. She could feel him unraveling now, his tightly controlled poise slipping: the sloppy strokes of his tongue into her mouth, his harsh breathing, his restless hands as they pulled at her hair, clawed down her back, grabbed at her hips.

She grinned against his mouth. “Sorry. Can’t help it. You’re a pretty man.” Boldly, she said, “When I saw you at the bar, I thought,  _that’s a man I’d get on my knees for._ ”

For a moment Jon went still, and she feared she’d been too forward. But he tightened his grip on her waist and blew out a shuddering breath against her mouth. Then he dragged his lips to her ear. “That’d be a pretty sight. But I’d much rather get on my knees and find out just how wet  _you_ are right now.”

Her legs nearly buckled at his words. If she weren’t already soaking, she certainly would be now. She made an incoherent sound against his neck, her hands winding through his luscious curls. He pulled her earlobe between his teeth and sucked lightly as he slid his hands under her shirt to touch the bare skin of her back. Then he stepped back to pull it up, forcing her arms over her head so he could take it off. He stopped to do the same with his own t-shirt, grabbing it in the back to tug over his head.

Dany was glad her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, though she would have preferred full spotlights on him so she could fully appreciate his body. He was lean and muscled, his shoulders broad, his waist deliciously tapered. His dress slacks rode low enough that she could see the definition of his iliac furrow before it disappeared under the waistband along with the tantalizing trail of dark hair she itched to follow with her fingers and mouth. Especially if the bulge in his pants was any indication of what she would find underneath.

He moved back to kiss her, teasing her tongue with his as his hands encircled her waist, palms gliding up her back to the clasp of her bra she’d put on earlier; she hadn’t wanted to be braless in her sweats and raggedy t-shirt. Now she wished she hadn’t bothered, eagerly shrugging out of it when he got the clasp undone and slipped the straps down her arms. The bra fell to the floor, landing on her feet, and she kicked it aside to press against him, gasping into his mouth when her pebbled nipples grazed his hard chest.

Resting his forehead on hers, Jon peered at her through the fringe of his dark lashes, holding her gaze as he dipped his hands under the elastic of her sweatpants, nudging them down to cup her ass. At least she’d had the good sense to keep her thong on from earlier. She trembled as his fingertips traced the line of her thong between her cheeks, slipping down between her thighs till he was touching the damp crotch of her panties. His lips twitched with a small smile, then he withdrew his hands to fist the sides of her sweatpants and tug them all the way down her legs.

Dany stepped out of them, wobbling and grabbing onto his shoulders as he crouched on his knees. When he reached for her thong, she pressed her thighs together. “I’m not going to be able to stand if you do that right here,” she warned him, her voice shaking.

Laughing under his breath, Jon stood and wrapped his arms around her waist to lift her off the ground. Startled, Dany clung to him until he lowered her to the bed on top of her covers. He hung back to take off his shoes and unbutton his pants. When he pushed them down, his swollen cock bobbed upward. He hadn’t been wearing any underwear, she realized, lips parting in wordless wonder. Her mouth watered as he crawled over her, and she reached for his cock, sliding her palm up and down the smooth shaft.

His movements faltered as he shuddered, at the mercy of her wandering hand, until he lay down at her side, forcing her to release him. He leaned over her to take her mouth in an urgent kiss, his calm demeanor one again slipping with every rough thrust of his tongue between her lips. His hand slid over her hip and up her belly to palm her breast, and he groaned, swallowing her breathy moan as he kneaded her tit, thumbing her erect nipple before pinching it. Jon broke the kiss and dipped his head down to wrap his lips and tongue around her tit, sucking the tender peak into his mouth.

Underneath him, Dany writhed and gasped, pressing her breasts upward. He played with her other breast, stroking the nipple till it felt raw, then he took that bud between his lips to suck. When he slipped his hand under her thong, she opened her legs eagerly, letting out a moan of relief when his fingers glided between her slick folds. Jon let out an appreciative hum as he rubbed up and down her slit, his fingers moving embarrassingly easy in all her wetness.

When he pushed two fingers inside her, she groaned and clutched at the covers, undulating her hips against his hand as he fucked her with those fingers. “Jon,” she whimpered, hoping to encourage him to touch her clit next, but he sat up to pull her thong off, tossing it over the edge of the bed somewhere, then he kneeled between her legs.

“Pull your knees up,” he told her. She hiked them up, her thighs still spread before him. Her cunt was open for him, her lips plump and red. When he pushed her knees even farther back toward her chest, her feet lifting off the bed, she closed her eyes self-consciously, her face reddening.

Jon wedged his shoulders under her heels and lay on his belly, bringing his mouth between her thighs. He teased her first with the tip of his nose, trailing it upward along her seam to her clit, breathing her in. Dany turned her face into her pillow, her thighs already quivering, her body wanting to simultaneously twist away from him and press closer.

His tongue came next, following the same path as his nose, licking in between her parted folds. With a gasp, Dany flinched away before arching into him, her belly tightening when he dipped his tongue inside her. Jon lapped up her cum, pushing his tongue in and out like his fingers had done previously. He groaned before sucking her lower lips into his mouth, drawing each side between his lips. Then his sank his fingers back into her cunt and kissed up to her clitoris where he sucked lightly, pushing back the fleshy hood with his teeth. Dany’s hands shot down to clutch at his hair, holding him close. He complied with her handsy demands, pressing his tongue to her clit in focused pulses before he switched to flicking the swollen nub.

“God!” she cried out, bowing off the bed and nearly ripping his hair out as she came suddenly. He just grunted and continued licking her clit, opening her up with a third finger. Her walls clamped around him, rippling with the flutters of her orgasm. Dany moaned and writhed against his face until the pleasure receded. She was still trembling when he finally released her, feeling empty as he pulled his fingers and mouth away.

Putting her feet down on the bed, Jon sat up and wiped her wetness from his beard then stretched out at her side again. She felt weak and useless when he rolled her onto her side and pressed up against her back. His cock slipped between her cheeks, the wet tip at the small of her back.

“I wanna return the favor,” she protested, but he chuckled and held her fast by her hips.

“Another time,” he promised, his mouth pressed to the back of her head. He moved his hand up to fondled her tits from behind, pinching the tips. She squirmed. “You got condoms?”

Feebly, she waved a hand at her nightstand. There were a few in there, somewhere, though how old they were at this point, she couldn’t say. Hopefully, condoms didn’t expire after only a year or so. Reaching over her, Jon riffled through her nightstand till he found one. He leaned back to tear it open and rolled the condom down his shaft before he lifted her leg up to wedge his cock between her thighs. Dany braced her hand on the bed and arched backward, sucking in a breath when she felt him fist his cock and press the head between her folds. As he pushed into her, she pushed back, gasping as his thick cock slid into her tight channel. He worked his cock inside her, holding her hips as he thrust into her till his pelvis was flush against her ass.

Her back curved, Dany leaned forward, angling her hips until she could feel the head of his cock pressing into her vaginal wall. “Oh,” she sighed, burrowing her forehead into her pillow. Jon grunted into her neck, grabbing her thigh to hook her leg over top of his when he slid it between hers. He slipped his hand between her thighs and cupped it over her mound, his fingers pressing into her clit where he held her. Then, he began moving inside her, thrusting into her from behind, his chest pressed against her back so tightly only his hips moved as he fucked her. She was so wet, his cock moved inside her cunt easily with his slow, measured strokes. The pressure on her still-sensitive clit, against the spongy wall of her cunt, every time he pushed into her, was too much. Her whole body felt hot and damp with perspiration, and she fisted her hand in the covers, needing to hold onto something.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmured breathlessly against her shoulder, mouthing at her with his lips and teeth. He pulsed his fingers on her clit and pushed her back into him harder. Her cunt spasmed around him, still tingling from her prior orgasm. “Does that feel good?”

Her nod was frantic, her breaths stifled by the pillow. “Yeah,” she gasped, eyes shut tightly. Even with the friction of his cock and the condom inside her, she felt uncomfortably wet, like she was leaking. Feeling wanton, she lifted her knee higher, bracing her foot on his calf to open herself wider. The sounds of his cock moving inside her, of his fingers working her clit, made her feel wild. Her moans grew louder, and he grew rougher, fucking her faster, his pelvis slapping against her ass with quick thrusts. He pinched her clit between his fingers and rubbed it up and down, grunting into her neck. The pleasure sharpened into pain, and then she was coming again, her heart drumming so loudly in her ears she couldn’t even tell how loud she was screaming.

But she heard Jon as he came, a gasp of her name and then a gravelly groan into her hair as he pumped into her once, twice, before burying himself deep. His cock pulsed inside the tight vice of her cunt, his hand on her hip to hold her still, fingers gouging divots into her hip bone. Breathing hard, he stroked himself into her a few more times then relaxed against her back, sliding his hand up her belly to gently cup her breast and hold her to him.

They didn’t speak while they caught their breath, his chest rising and falling against her back, slick with sweat. Uselessly, her leg flopped down to the bed, and he let out a quiet groan as her cunt inadvertently tightened around his softening cock. Eventually, he pulled out of her, again making her acutely aware of how wet she was. She could feel her slickness slipping between her cheeks, dampening the shorn curls of her pubes.

“I’m gonna throw this away,” he said, indicating the condom. Sleepily, she could only manage a nod, somehow dozing off during his short trip to the bathroom. He roused her and handed her a damp washcloth so she could clean herself off. She felt too tired to get up to go to the bathroom, so she dropped the washcloth on the floor. Jon crawled back into her bed with her and resumed spooning her from behind.

“Do you want to get under the covers?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” she hummed, already slipping off to sleep again. Jon laughed huskily when she made no move to get under the covers, so he just grabbed the other end and pulled it over them, wrapping them up like a burrito.

That was the last thing she remembered before she fell asleep, warm and cozy cocooned against him.

* * *

When Dany awoke in the morning, Jon was gone, though he’d tucked the comforter around her in his absence. She lay in bed a while longer, trying to remember clearly the events of the night before. She recalled him waking her up very early, before the sun had even dawned, to tell her he had to go walk a few dogs, including Ghost. But she couldn’t remember if she’d said anything in response, or if he’d promised to call her. She didn’t have his number.

She wished she’d been more awake when he’d left so she could have asked for it. Feeling oddly morose, Dany dragged herself out of bed to relieve her bladder. Her neck and inner thighs still felt tender and abraded from his beard, but she relished the reminder of the night before. Getting dressed in her pajamas, she shuffled into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee before remembering once again her lack of electricity. She sighed. She really needed to do something about that.

On the counter she found a note from Jon, scribbled on a torn-off piece of paper from the notepad stuck to her fridge. Her mood brightened as she snatched it up to read.

 

 

> _In case you don’t remember when you wake up:_
> 
> _Sorry to run out on you, but some very demanding dogs await. Also, anyone ever tell you that you snore? Good thing you’re cute._
> 
> _P.S. My uncle runs a pretty big investment firm, Stark Enterprises. Look them up. He’d be very interested in your work. Give him a call, and tell him Jon sent you. Hopefully, I’ll see you around._
> 
> _—J_


End file.
